Le Reve
by cosetteuphrasie
Summary: A small conversation between Jem and Tessa.


**SO hope all of you guys like it! This fic has been sitting on my computer for a couple months, and I just now felt like publishing it. YAY!**

**While I am a supporter of Will/Tessa… I was still struck by the adorable-ness that is Jem/Tessa. **

**ALSO I'd like to thank my writing buddy/twin/person-that-keeps-me-sane LoveInHumorAndRomance as well as my editor/brutally honest bestie IDon'tKnow!**

**I think it turned out a lot more angsty than I expected it to. I always do that—I attempt light-heartedness and then the final product is as heavy as a brick. Oh well.**

**Disclaimer: The Infernal Devices series belongs to Cassandra Clare. Not me.**

The only thing _he_ had ever done was hurt her.

So _why don't I leave?_ she asked herself again and again. Was it because some part of her was masochistic and enjoyed the hurt, just as long as that pain was being delivered by him? Did she stick around, and hope against hope, because she thought that she would be the one to change him for the better?

Tessa contemplated this as she stood on the roof of the London Institute, the last place where she and _he_ had had a real conversation, but a painful one at that. She still could hardly believe what _he_ was suggesting. A part of her still refused to believe it, and that it was purely an act.

They hadn't had a decent conversation since that day. Passing through the corridors of the Institute, she wouldn't even acknowledge his very presence, much less manage civil words at him.

She wanted to spit in his face more than anything else.

But no; hadn't Aunt Harriet taught Theresa Gray better than that? The thought of Aunt Harriet always made her heart ache. She had been the closest to a mother Tessa had ever had. Come to think of it, she was pretty much the only mother—and family—that she had ever had. Nate no longer counted as family; he was a useless imbecile who was willing to sell her. Tessa—his own sister. The betrayal of a friend hurt; the betrayal of a family member, one whom you loved and thought you could trust, nearly killed her.

The London sky overhead was cloudy and gray, as usual. Tessa missed New York City so much, with its summer sunshine and blue sky. Did the perpetual gray overhead ever give way to some blue? It was a blinding white-bright, one that always hurt her eyes whenever she looked up. A blue sky had a sort of warmth to it, one that you could turn your head up to and grin as the warm sunshine embraced—

"What are you doing up here?" a male voice asked calmly. For a moment she suspected it to be _him_, and she contemplated lunging at him and throwing him off the roof. Then Tessa remembered that, with his reflexes, he would flick her off easily. She resolved to turn around with a cold stare.

Tessa regretted the stare though, when she saw who it was. There stood Jem, dressed in a simple white shirt and black trousers. He looked healthy and she wondered how long he would stay that way. She quickly replaced the hateful expression with a kinder one, and then attempted a grin. In her mind's eye, she saw that it was indeed one of the most pathetic attempts at a grin she had ever tried. "Just… admiring the view."

"Ah yes," Jem walked over to join her by the roof's side, near the iron railings. "To the left, you can see some industrial workshop adding more of their foul waste to our lovely Thames. To the right you can see a dog fight. And—if you look far enough away, I believe I can make out two carriages that have just rammed into one another."

Tessa laughed softly, despite herself. "London is lovely this time of year, isn't it?"

Jem smiled, but that expression vanished just as quickly as it had come. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing." She answered hastily, and the quick response came clear across as a lie.

"Clearly something," he said slowly. "Is it Will?"

Tessa knew it would be useless to lie to him again. "Yes. Is it bad to say I want to push him under a horse during the afternoon traffic?"

He gave a short laugh. The sound was comforting to her ears. When Jem laughed, the air surrounding her seemed to warm up for a bit. Only he had the ability to do that. "I know the feeling. I know that sometimes he can be so infuriatingly absurd, but given his circumstances… he's never really opened up and talked to anyone before."

"I don't want him to talk to me, quite the opposite as a matter of fact." She turned away from the view, toward the stairs leading back down into the attic. "If I had anywhere else to go, I would have left already. He clearly doesn't want me here anyway."

Only silence responded. So she lifted the skirts of her heavy dress as she walked away.

"Wait—Tessa!" Jem called out to Tessa just as she was nearing the stairs.

She dropped the skirt and turned around. "Yes?"

"I want you here," he said surely, as if it were a fact, known the world around.

She slowly walked back to him. His gaze never left hers, and he stood poised and ready for anything she had to say. He fixed his pale trusting eyes on her stormy gray-blue ones.

His silver eyes never ceased to amaze Tessa. They were so pure, with no trace of deceit or trickery or lies in them. _His_, however, were the deep-blue of the Atlantic during a storm, and full of hidden lies and inner remorse. Inside, she wondered which one was better. The pure and innocent—the one who would never do anything to hurt you. Or the dark and mysterious—the one who was as unpredictable as an earthquake, and just as violent and unforgiving as one.

Had life not changed—had she, Aunt Harriet, and Nate still lived in their tiny apartment in New York City—Tessa would have instantly replied with the former. The gentler one was clearly the more desirable one. Gentlemanly conduct was one of the most important traits that women looked for in men. Not a wild and impulsive attitude.

_So why,_ she thought, _why do I still want Will?_

**WHEE Tessa is torn between them two! I really am a Will/Tessa supporter at heart but… I just love Jem too. Asking me to choose between Will and Jem is like asking me to choose between oxygen and nitrogen—I can't if I want to live.**

**And I've been dying for Clockwork Prince. Dying. I kid you not.**


End file.
